The Morning After
by TheSUNiswarmingup
Summary: Roxanne's state of mind after that night she dumped him, alone, in the rain. Originally a character analysis just for me, but I ended up liking it more than the story it was supposed to help me write... My first contribution to this fandom!


I'm not sure what woke me—the sunlight stabbing my eyes, the hangover stabbing my head, or the overwhelming nausea that sent me stumbling into the bathroom within seconds. And even as I retched, I couldn't regret the decision to drink until I passed out, rather than think about the events of the previous evening. I'd peeled off my soaked, probably ruined purple dress, thrown on some sweats, and poured my first tumbler of gin. Fuck tonic. Just let me lose consciousness.

But that was last night, and if you ask me, getting hammered during the day is just giving up. I put the coffee on, puked again, and got into the shower. I needed the pathetic smeared makeup and stale perfume off my body and out of my mind.

I can't believe he did this. Any of it. I washed my hair and tried to focus on the Titan development, but I couldn't stop trying to guess what role Megamind had intended for me in this latest idiotic plan. It made absolutely no sense. If he wanted Hal to be the new Metro Man and for me to continue to be superhero bait, then why was Megamind the one dating me? And why involve Bernard?

And if I'm really honest, I wasn't even thinking about that. I was kicking myself for not recognizing Megamind in Bernard. Bernard had Megamind's voice, and what human had spent more time listening to it? Bernard had Megamind's eyes—am I going to pretend I never noticed them?

If I'm really, _really_ honest—well, I deliberately did NOT pay attention to Megamind's eyes or dwell on the sound of his voice during a kidnapping. And that was because— _completely_ honest now, Roxanne—his shameless flirting turned me on. And I absolutely could NOT let myself be hot for a villain who had me tied to a chair. That's some kinky shit.

I turned off the water, pulled on my robe, and thought about Megamind's voice. Whenever he kidnapped me or took over the airwaves, Megamind was always raving, always bragging, always trying (and failing) to intimidate. It was impossible for me to take him or his threats seriously, and I could only assume that attempting to seduce me was another type of bluster. Now, noticing my flushed face in the mirror as I applied my moisturizer, feeling my pulse race as I remembered some inane boast about how the flames of his e-vil burned bright, I had to admit that listening to him talk affected me much more than the giant drill bits and alligators. He would look into my eyes, centimeters from my nose, and croon or murmur or whisper his retort to whatever insult I'd thrown at him. I told myself that I insulted him to show him I wasn't afraid, but the truth was, I was addicted to the thrill of him circling my chair, saving his e-vil just for me. I knew he ate up every word, every look I gave him, and I loved the attention. I told myself it was adrenaline.

My dates with Bernard were nothing like that, of course. I loved his earnestness. I loved to gaze into his eyes as he talked, loved how openly he gazed back. I was aware that his eyes were an unusually vibrant green, but they didn't seem strange to me. They seemed so familiar because we were so _right_ for each other, I thought. I rationalized that every girl thinks her boyfriend has the most incredibly beautiful eyes in the world—it was nothing more than my attraction. And I loved the way he talked. He was adorably naïve, and so energetic and passionate about his interests. I couldn't believe he was the same miserable curator from the Metro Man Museum.

And there was the truth, staring me in the face the whole time. He most obviously was NOT that miserable curator.

(In retrospect, it WAS kind of weird that I always seemed to think about Minion whenever we talked.)

When Megamind appeared at the restaurant, he was still talking like Bernard, still looking at me as Bernard did, and somewhere deep inside, I was happy to see him. I'd missed his face.

What?

No.

No, this man was a murderer, a criminal, a liar, and a fraud. He was taking advantage of me. He knew that I liked him, so he was going to see how far he could go with me.

And I'd been falling in love.

I decided to SCRUB the HELL out of my apartment. Maybe I could scrub out my fucking humiliation.

By early afternoon, I was too tired to be angry, and the memory of our final conversation came rushing back as I sat down for a break. The way he'd looked at me, outside in the rain—it was clear that he'd broken his own heart, too. I knew that he had not meant to hurt me. Megamind never, ever hurt me—that's why the kidnappings were such a joke. He had been _courting_ me as Bernard. Why? If he liked me so much, why didn't he just ask me out like a normal human being?

Besides the obvious?

How long had this whole thing been going on? If he had asked me out, what would I have done? Like, if I didn't think it was a joke?

Replaying kidnappings in my head, I'm forced to admit that my heart would stop whenever I picked up his natural musk. I would stare at his wide, shark-like mouth of far, far too many perfect teeth, and daydream about him biting an apple, and wonder what the hell my problem was. His skin was so flawless, his body so lean and tight and limber—oh God, was he ever fit. And always enjoying himself. So fucking brilliant, and such a badass. Had I been in denial from the very beginning?

But I wouldn't have gone out with him, let's face it. I was afraid to like him. He was too dangerous, or at least, too notorious. He liked being the bad guy, and I was not prepared to cross over to his side of the law. It's not because he's an alien. I never really thought of him as an alien, the way I thought of Metro Man.

Oh God. Metro Man. How could I have fallen for Metro Man's murderer? No one ever expected him to succeed, but the fact is that Megamind ATTEMPTED to murder Metro Man every week for many, many years. I'm supposed to be okay with this, just because we're suddenly attracted to each other? I'm supposed to keep dating a man with more than 80 life sentences? Does he think I'm going to help him break out of prison? Show up for conjugal—focus, Roxanne.

I'm not going to take up with an escaped convict, let alone our city's Evil Overlord. Certainly not with the imbecile who gave Metro Man's powers to Hal. Hal! What is it with these jerks who think they can just shape shift and _win_ me as some kind of fucking prize?

Who the hell is pounding on the doorbell?


End file.
